The indications of the weather were not falsified by the event. In less than half an hour after all were safely housed, the heavens were covered with pitchy clouds, from which were discharged dazzling thunderbolts. Then came a terrific blast of wind, rending boughs from the trees, and making the chimneys rock on the housetop; and this again was followed by a furious driving rain, falling in such torrents as promised in a few hours to swell the smallest brooks into impassable rivers. This continued until nightfall, and was then only terminated to be succeeded by deceitful intervals of calm, broken in upon, even when least expected, by violent gusts of wind and rain.
It is not our design to pursue the conversation, nor to describe the revels of the six Deutschers and their American companion, under the roof of the Herr Schlachtenschlager. Secure from the tempest, they defied its rage, and made even the roar of the thunder and the plash of the rain contribute to their enjoyment. Armstrong has described, in a few lines that find a responsive chord in every bosom, the luxurious addition to the comfort of a warm bed, produced by the tumult of a midnight tempest:
| "Oh! when the growling winds contend, and all The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm, To sink in warm repose, and hear the din Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights Beyond the luxury of vulgar sleep." |
The same cause is said by those who are philosophic in such matters, to add peculiar zest to the hissing of the tea-kettle, and the rattle of the punch-bowl. Perhaps, then, it was the violence of the storm, rather than the excellence of the liquor, which betrayed the worthy Schlachtenschlager and his guests into a degree of conviviality somewhat inconsistent with the melancholy duties they had just rendered to the commonwealth and the dead. But whatever was the cause, it is very certain they forgot the dead and the commonwealth together, and by nightfall were seven of the happiest men in all the rebellious colonies of America. By that time Affidavy was as glorified in his spirit as the rest; and suddenly starting up in the midst of a crashing peal of thunder, he hiccuped, and then roared,
"Success to the Rhine wine, sweet or sour! and the devil take him that won't sing its praises as loudly as e'er a rascal of the Rheingau itself! So up, you German pigs, and let's sing! up, you Hanz, Franz, Alberick, Jake, and Simson! up, you old rogue Schlachtenschlager, for you can sing like a cherubim! and up, you jolly dog, Teff Affidavy, who is up already, and can sing as well as the best! join hands, bring flowers, crown the cup, and sing the Rheinweinlied like seven angels—the Rheinweinlied, you hard-headed, jolly dogs, in broad Deutsch! and after that, we'll sing it in my own translation, botheration, which is better than the original, for all that ass, Jingleum, says he made it. Are you ready?"
"Ready!" responded the happy six; and in an instant every man was singing, at the top of his voice, the famous Rheinweinlied—a song of such noble and heart-stirring capacity, at least so far as the music is concerned, that if it be objected to it, that it has sometimes set a singer beside himself, it may be wondered how any one can hear it and keep sober at all. The winds blew, the rain fell, and the lightning flashed, while this jolly company rose round the table, and sang in concert the praises of old father Rhine.
THE RHEINWEINLIED.
| I. |
| Bekränzt mit Laub den lieben vollen Becher, Und trinkt ihn fröhlich leer. In ganz Europia, Ihr Herren Zecher! Ist solch ein Wein nicht mehr. |
| II. |
| Ihn bringt das Vaterland ans seiner Fülle: Wie wär er sonst so gut? Wie wär er sonst so edel, wäre stille Un doch voll Krafft und Muth? |
| III. |
| Am Rhein, am Rhein, da wachsen unsre Reben; Gesegnet sei der Rhein! Da wachsen sie am ufer hin, und geben Uns diesen Labewein. |
| IV. |
| So trinkt ihn denn, und lasst uns alle Wege Uns freum und fröhlich seyn! Und wüsster wir wo iemand traurig läge, Wir gäben ihm den Wein. |
"Bravo! bravissimo! bravississimo!" cried Affidavy. "Here's to you, you dogs—'Ihr Herren Zecher!' And now for my paraphrase. All you that don't know it, why you may sing the German lingo over again: the two will go very well together."
So saying, he burst forth on the following rifacimento of the original; the others, in general, holding fast to their own more sonorous expressions; the effect of which Babel-like intermixture of languages was to increase the noise, if it did not add to the spirit of the author.